The Great Yuy
by J.Alberghini
Summary: Chapter 6: Relena recieves a present, and Duo starts getting more involved in Heero's project.
1. Life was beginning over again

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing does not belong to me. Gundam Wing no es mio. Gundam Wing wa watashi no koto ja nai. (This sentence doesn't even belong to me, my friend wrote it.) Did I leave anything out?  
  
The Great Yuy  
Chapter 1  
  
"And so with the sunshine and the great burst of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer." -Nick, The Great Gatsby (F.Scott Fitzgerald)  
  
28 May AC 202 1600 hours  
  
"Heero!" A petite brunette waved at Heero Yuy, her hands flailing wildly as if she were stranded in the middle of the ocean waiting for the Coast Guard. He recognized her from his biology class freshman year. Jamie, her name was. Or was it Janie? A nice girl, he supposed, but way too pushy for my taste. Still, she was persistent, he'd give her that, and one must admire that kind of tenacity, annoying as it was. Reluctantly, he went over to see what she wanted.  
She and her friends, a giggly group of girls who vaguely reminded him of Relena's fan club at St. Gabriel's (just as rich, but much weirder) were sitting in the courtyard of their college campus. They all were dressed in multicolored matching flower print slip dresses and wearing more make-up than Trowa's entire circus had in stock. It was almost summer; not that seasons mattered on the colonies. But it meant school would soon be over, and for Heero, (and these young ladies as well) permanently. He was excited, he supposed, if anything, to get away from Them. Their giggles became louder as he drew near, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes.  
"What's up?" he asked wearily. Since he'd decided to stop glaring at people (It was cheaper than transferring schools), his classmates had been way too friendly to him for his taste. They mistook his quiet, reserved demeanor to be a sign of a good listener and bogged him down with their trivial problems, and boring life stories. Heero didn't like to judge people, but they really needed to get a life. It was extremely bothersome, though sometimes (rarely) the attention was flattering. Still, he had no intention to make friends with anyone, or do anything else with them, for that matter.  
Jamie/Janie grinned and put her head on his shoulder possessively. He grimaced, which she mistook for a smile (He'd long believed she had a serious eye problem). "Oh, nothing. Just wanted to see you close up," she said flirtatiously, which he mistook as desperately (She'd long believed he had a serious hearing problem. Except, he didn't). Her friends oohed and aahed, and Heero felt he was going to be sick. He shook her off, lest he lose his lunch on her shocking pink dress.  
"What's that?" he asked, trying to distract her away from him. He pointed to the newspaper she was holding.  
"A paper, duh!" she laughed. "Oh, it's just the social section," she replied more seriously. "Don't they make the most adorable couple?" she gushed. She handed it to him and Heero's stomach churned even more when he saw the photograph that graced the cover: Relena Darlian, arm in arm with a blond guy in a suit. He made a face when he realized who it was, Jonathan Drake, the spoiled brat that had even dared to threaten Heero at St. Gabriel's. Relena's dating HIM? He thought in horror.  
The girl swooned. "I wish I had someone like him. Relena's so lucky. Isn't she beautiful, Heero?"  
  
"Yeah," he replied automatically. Her face fell. If she was fishing for a compliment, it didn't work. "Not as beautiful as you, darling,"' she fancied him saying. Ha! Fat chance. The day I say a girl is more beautiful than Relena is the day someone has to put me in a mental hospital, he thought to himself.  
Heero flipped through the pages to find the article. He had to stop reading after the first paragraph. His companion may as well have written it. It was sweeter than candy and complete junk. "It won't last," he blurted out.  
The girls gaped at him, positively scandalized by his words. "How could you say such an awful thing like that?" one of the braver ones dared to ask.  
"He's a wimp," Heero replied. "She'll dump him eventually."  
"Heero!" his self-proclaimed girlfriend exclaimed. "That's so mean! Besides, he's not a wimp. He's a fencing champ on Earth. And he's good at other sports too. He has a motorcycle, and probably a couple of nice cars too, and his own yacht, and he's just so handsome!" She squealed with glee. Heero blanched. "Well, I think they're perfect together. Don't you have any sense of romance?" She wriggled herself under his arm, clinging to his shirt like static.  
He gulped. "Um, I. have to leave," he said. He jerked away, dropping her flat on her bottom and ran out of the courtyard with a speed that a roadrunner couldn't have matched. Of course, he had a far more dangerous predator, but that wasn't necessarily the cause of his flight.  
The girl, whose name was neither Jamie, nor Janie, but Amy snapped her fingers in disgust. "Damn it! Another insensitive jerk. I lose more potential boyfriends because of that then. then."  
"With your personality?" suggested one of her friends, not the most tactful one in the bunch, or the most intelligent for that matter (not that any of them could've gotten into that college without their daddies' trust funds).  
She glared at her. "No! He's just not worth my time; that's all. Oh well. C'est la vie." She went back to drooling over the picture.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
28 May AC 202 1700 hours  
  
Heero burst into the one bedroom shack he couldn't even begin to call "home". The paint was peeling, the bricks, eroded and one could never walk on the wooden floors without shoes. It was a stroke of luck that it hadn't been condemned by the Board of Health ages ago. Now that they were living there, Heero and his roommate, the elderly, but indestructible (and ever annoying) Dr. J hadn't made much of an effort to fix up the place, lacking the financial means to do so. Heero worked, of course, he had to, but he kept the money for school supplies and his college tuition. To Dr. J, it was strictly off limits, for, as Heero often reminded him, just because he had to live with him didn't mean he had to trust him. The old man seemed to share the same sentiment, and the only way Heero got even near the man's money was through his own stomach. And even that was in relatively small portions. With those living conditions, and considering they couldn't afford to go anywhere else, one wouldn't think they'd do anything to further demolish the place. And usually, that was the case, excluding a couple of explosions in their dungeon of a basement due to Dr. J's "work" (exactly what the man did nowadays, Heero wasn't sure, but it couldn't have been pleasant), until that day.  
He ran into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. It swung off its hinges and crashed to the floor, making a couple cockroaches run for their lives and creating a large cloud of dust. It didn't even have a chance to clear.  
With a grunt and a kick, Heero sent it sliding across the hall into the bedroom, where it collided with that door and shattered into small splinters. Heero heard footsteps coming up from the basement. He waited, thinking his old mentor had come to reprimand him, but he never did. Heero shrugged it off as just hearing things (when, in fact, it was more a matter of not hearing things) and continued his task of destroying the house.  
Approximately 15 minutes and 50 or so missing tiles later, Heero finally relaxed. He splashed a handful of ice cold water on his face and stared into the mirror, in which five different Heeros stared back at him. His knuckles were covered in blood and his clothes were soaked through with sweat. He nearly laughed at his appearance, but that only sent him into a coughing fit from all the dust. His favorite tank top was torn and there were spots of crusty, dried up blood on his already ripped jeans. His big toe, if he could've seen it through his sneaker, was black and blue, but all he knew was it hurt like hell.  
If Relena could see me now, she wouldn't let me hear the end of it, he thought. His heart began to pound violently in his rib cage as the image of the pretty politician floated through his mind. It wasn't the first time it had appeared like that, in five years, but the sensation still felt new each time. At times, he'd imagined that she was thinking about him too at that exact moment. Now the illusion was as shattered as his mirror. He felt as if someone had just run him over with a car and literally tore what heart he had left out. It was a disgusting comparison, but one Heero took with ease, as he normally did when it came to the grotesque. Yet, considering what she might have been doing at those times instead, and whom with, swept a wave of nausea over him like he'd never felt before, even when he killed for the first time so many years ago. He didn't have time before his stomach heaved violently as his lunch that day ended up in the sink.  
Once the gruesome task was complete and his face looked gaunt and hollow, like he'd been sick for years and not minutes, Heero turned on the faucet and plopped into the tub, clothes and all. He absentmindedly rubbed some shampoo in his hair and ducked under the water, glad that his outfit was, for the most part, still clean. That at least was a blessing. He didn't have as many of his famous green tank tops and spandex as others thought.  
Now that he was less preoccupied, he was able to hear voices inside the house. One was Dr. J, he was certain. He'd recognize the old man's voice anywhere. The other was slightly less distinctive, but familiar never the less. He determined that it was a male's, his age perhaps, though it still was rather high, like it didn't change as his did years ago. Grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his shoulders, he got out of the tub to investigate.  
Sure enough, he had known the voice. It belonged to a handsome (though Heero didn't think of him in those terms) blonde in a shocking pink business suit, who looked too rich to even set foot in that house, unless of course, he was evicting the residents. For a brief moment, Heero thought that was what was happening, but that was ridiculous. He wouldn't do that, even if the house did belong to him, which was a possibility. Quatre Raberba Winner. It amazed him that the pretty boy of the business world was once a Gundam pilot, or even stranger, called him a friend. But how did he find me?  
Heero's question was answered in a moment. "Trowa's been in contact with Dr. J and the other, that's how I found out you were here," Quatre explained. Heero quirked an eyebrow at him, slightly surprised at himself for letting his puzzlement show, but said nothing. He'd forgotten about Quatre's strange ability to sense emotions. And he didn't like it one bit.  
"So, what do you want with me?" Heero asked point blank, with the utmost calmness, to hide his sudden uneasiness.  
"Nothing, nothing at all," he replied casually. "Just thought I'd stop by."  
Heero narrowed his eyes at him. "I hardly think you came all this was for nothing," he snapped, startling himself with the sharpness of his voice. Immediately, he felt guilty. Quatre had done nothing wrong. Not yet, anyway. He softened his gaze, embarrassed by his treatment of this man, who'd always been so nice to him.  
Quatre simply smiled sympathetically, too sympathetically. It was if he knew what Heero had been going through that day, perhaps more somehow, and pitied him for it. Heero glared at him. He didn't want anyone's pity. "Well, nothing but a return visit, anyway."  
Heero shook his head automatically. "I have school."  
As a soldier Heero had been taught not to underestimate his enemy. Quatre might not have been his enemy, but he'd forgotten how smart the boy was. He hadn't made him their leader for nothing, after all. "Well, then it's a good thing school ends next week, as Dr. J and I were just discussing. And right after that is exactly when I want you." Heero cursed silently to himself and Quatre's smile broadened. "Oh, and I heard you're graduating. Congratulations."  
"For such a kind person, you've certainly learned how to manipulate people," Heero commented. But Quatre didn't seem offended by it. In fact, he seemed rather complimented, much to his former comrade's horror. "You've been spending too much time with Dorothy," he mumbled.  
Quatre shrugged. "Nah." He ran his fingers through his hair in a casual gesture, but one Heero felt to be very annoying. You haven't won me yet, pretty boy. "So, can I expect your attendance?"  
"I'm afraid I'm not quite convinced," Heero replied mildly. He imitated the gesture, realizing too late that he hadn't rinsed and repeated, and, as a result, got shampoo on his hands, He wiped them on his jeans, forgetting the towel he had around his neck.  
Quatre didn't chuckle behind his hand as Heero expected he would. Instead, his expression was of pure sobriety. "Is that so? Well, I'm not going to force you; you need not worry about that. But just. think about it, okay? We all really want you to come, and well, I think you need to be there, for your own sake."  
Heero looked at him curiously; his blue eyes filled with suspicion, yet an underlying curiosity. "Why?"  
The other boy shrugged. "I can't really say. You'll find out, if you come, of course."  
Wing's pilot frowned, a crease forming in the middle of his forehead. "You remind me of my high school guidance counselor when we were discussing whether or not I should take SATIIs, because the college I wanted to go to didn't require them. It wasn't required, but it was recommended, which usually means do it. Is that how this is?" Quatre was looking slightly guilty for trying to make him guilty, which he took as a yes. Heero wanted to refuse, but something told him that would be a bad idea (The lost puppy look Quatre was giving him didn't hurt). "Fine, I'll come."  
"Terrific!" he exclaimed. Heero stepped back, afraid the sweet boy would jump up and hug him, but Quatre just grinned at him. "See you then. I arranged all your shuttle tickets and everything. Dr. J will fill you in on the details, but I have to go recruit the others now! Thank you!" Aware of his friend's obvious discomfort, he settled for a handshake instead, before Dr. J escorted him to the door (which remarkably was still attached, although it was a bit scratched up).  
When he returned, Heero surveyed his mentor warily. "What do you suppose all this is about?" he asked. He had a feeling Dr. J knew a lot more than he did and not just about travel arrangements either.  
"I haven't the faintest idea," the old man answered, with a look of complete innocence that Heero was sure was artificial. Heero felt like knocking the halo off of his head and all that was under it. "What have you been doing, by the way?" he sniffed, giving Heero a once over of his own.  
Heero had almost forgotten his rather disheveled appearance. "Oh, nothing much," he shrugged, as innocently as his roommate.  
Dr. J made a face and plucked at his shirt with his claw. "Get out of these filthy clothes and take a shower. You stink." Heero reluctantly turned to obey, even though he was already sopping wet from his earlier bath. "And you'd better shape up. You look like a bum. You're going to a mansion remember, surrounded by people way out of your league."  
"You're so nice to me," the soldier mumbled as he walked away.  
"I'm not meant to be nice to you. Don't forget that." Heero turned his head and gave him a dirty look. He would show him. Yes, later he would show all of them, how great and sophisticated Heero Yuy could be. He just had to figure out how to do it. 


	2. I certainly am awfully glad to see you a

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing does not belong to me. Nor does The Great Gatsby, which belongs to F.Scott Fitzgerald, a far better author than I could ever be, which is why I'm incorporating some of his symbols and ideas into my story, as a tribute to him. See if you can find them. 

The Great Yuy- Chapter Two

"I certainly am awfully glad to see you again."

-Daisy, The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald

4 June AC 202

1400 hours

"Yo, Heero! Heads up!" Heero looked up just in time as a braided youth hurled a blue duffle bag at his head. He caught it easily. 

"Let's go." He beckoned for his companion to follow him as he lead the way out of the maze that was the L4 colony cluster's national spaceport. 

Duo tagged along panting. "That's all?" he asked, a puzzled look on his face. "No suitcases or anything?"

"Nope, that's all," Heero replied. He slipped it over one shoulder as if it were filled with Styrofoam. "I pack light," he explained. 

Duo chuckled, even though Heero didn't think what he had said was very funny. "Now that's an understatement. Well, you're a man, there's no doubt about that," he laughed. "But even I need at least one suitcase. You sure you have enough clothes for a week?"

Heero looked over his shoulder, assessing its size. "No, not really, but I can wash them there," he decided. And that was the end of that. 

If Heero had had his way, Duo, nor anyone else for that matter, wouldn't be picking him up. He could find his way to Quatre's house easily enough; it was only the biggest mansion on the colony, and judging from the last time he'd been there, had so many lights that it stuck out like a neon sign the size of a Goodyear blimp. By now it was probably a national landmark, what with all the attention Quatre and his family had been getting for the past five years. But he had insisted, probably to make sure his guest wouldn't bolt the moment he got off the plane. 

_But he could have at least picked Trowa to do it_, Heero thought. If he didn't know better, he'd think this was some sort of punishment. He would've preferred the clown's company so much more. He at least knew when to keep quite. Duo, on the other hand, didn't stop gabbing throughout the entire twenty-minute drive to the Winner Estate. For a brief moment, Heero considered shutting his mouth permanently; but, despite his suicidal behavior in the past, he felt it wouldn't be a good idea since Duo was operating the vehicle. As he'd learned only five minutes before, Hilde was expecting their first child (at the ripe old age of 21). For her, and the poor soul that was Duo's spawn, he would leave the man in peace. 

Instead of killing him, Heero decided that the safest course of action was to drown him out by examining the car's interior. Already, he felt out of place, and he wasn't even there yet. The car was a bright yellow Rolls Royce, which gave new meaning to the word "lemon". The seats were made of leather, vinyl, and Heero wouldn't be surprised if the thing were made of gold, instead of steel. It looked too expense for him to even look at, let alone drive in. Duo didn't look like he fit in it anymore than he did. 

"Is this car yours?" he asked, interrupting Duo's rambling. The braided idiot (according to Heero, anyway) burst out laughing, making the car swerve and nearly hitting an old lady crossing the street. She shook her cane at them in anger when they passed. Duo waved to her cheerfully. 

"Are you kidding me?" he gasped. "I couldn't afford this thing. I can barely afford the payments for all the doctor's bills Hilde's been racking up, let alone the new mini-van we want to get. We have insurance, but still, it's a killer." He was still laughing, but Heero saw something more behind it this time. Duo would always be a goofball, no question about that, but still, he was a grown man with a family and responsibilities. For all Heero thought himself less flighty and immature than Duo, he wasn't the one that had two other lives depending on him, two other lives that he wanted depending on him and was willing to take care of. Heero felt like a baby, compared to that. 

"I'm sorry," he said gruffly, startling Duo out of his laughter. 

"What the hell?" he slammed his foot on the break as the light turn red, making the car lurch forward. He cursed under his breath. "Did you just say what I thought you said?"

"I said, I'm sorry," Heero repeated seriously. 

_Is that emotion I detect?_ Duo thought to himself. He looked awfully choked up, for him anyway. The situation was bizarre, and Duo almost started laughing again, but he had a feeling Heero wouldn't appreciate that. "For what?" he squeaked. 

"For all the bad things I've ever said about you during the past few years," he replied. "To your face and behind your back," he added awkwardly, but the other man didn't seem to hear, or at least didn't respond, stunned as he was in almost a complete silence (and for Duo Maxwell, that was a rarity indeed).

"It's Quatre's," he said finally, remembering his earlier question. His mouth felt dry and it seemed weird to talk all of a sudden. 

"Ah" was all that Heero said and they drove the rest of the way without another word from either of them.

* * * * * *

4 June, AC 202 

1430 hours

Counter: 00:00

"Heero!" The stoic pilot was glomped the moment he got in the door by a petite brunette with a swollen stomach, the mark of six months of pregnancy. Unlike her husband, she was not at all subdued. Though they only met a couple of times (and years ago at that) he was observant enough to notice changes her. She'd let her short dark hair grow to her chin and seemed older, more feminine. But Heero immediately recognized her as Hilde, Duo's wife and more importantly, a good friend of Relena's since Libra. 

"Um, hi?" he said, quite taken aback by the warm affection he'd received from her. But, as Duo had said during the ride, pregnancy did weird things to women, so he let it go as a hormonal imbalance that heightened the impulsiveness she'd sported in her youth. She'd as easily hug a Tom Buchanan as a Heero Yuy, and neither type was quite snugly. It was no reflection on him, he was sure. In fact, he'd always had a feeling that Hilde should resent him, considering the company she kept. 

"He's here!" she called over her shoulder. One by one, "friends" that he didn't even realize he had drifted into the hall, led by Quatre, who was flanked by the four more well known Maguanacs (the only ones whose names he could remember anyway): Rashid, Abdul, Auda and Ahmed. Following them were a group of blond girls whom he assumed were Quatre's sisters. Then came Trowa Barton (naturally) Catherine Bloom (who, to his surprise, smiled at him kindly), Dorothy Catalonia (He was just surprised to see her, period.) Wufei Chang was also there, still dressed in his Preventer uniform along with his partner (and fiancée, Duo had told him), Sally Po, Zechs Merquise (another surprise) and Lucrezia Noin, who would've been less surprising if she hadn't been carrying a little baby, and…

"Relena," he breathed. He glanced quickly at Quatre, who looked away from him to start an abrupt conversation with the bewildered Wufei about, for some reason, drugstores. _So this was the big secret, huh, Quatre?_ He thought to himself. 

"Heero!" Her clear blue eyes were wide and her mouth agape with confusion. Clearly, Heero was not the only one who hadn't been informed of the guest list. She uttered his name one more time before falling into a stunned silence. He, too, was quiet, but from disappointment, more than surprise, now that the initial shock was over. He'd wished she'd say his name again. It made it seem real, and worth keeping, who he was instead of someone he pretended to be. 

Her voice had changed, though not as drastically as his own had had, of course. It wasn't so high as before, not girlish, but lower, huskier even, as if she had a cold. Of course, he'd noticed the change when he first heard it on TV. But hearing it in person, seeing her in person, was quite different. There were a lot of changes he couldn't see on a screen. 

She was thinner than he'd remembered, but not sickly so. The baby fat had simply moved to another area. Like Hilde, her curves had developed (Though of course, not as the pregnant woman's head). She looked even more attractive in person, more so than his memories. She'd grown up, in looks of course, but there were other things too. Her expression was more solemn, even though she was smiling; it didn't meet her eyes. It was her political smile, Heero confirmed, and it unnerved him that he was its object. Not that he'd expected her to be ecstatic to see him, of course not. But still.

Over his shoulder, he could see an oval mirror, situated under a larger rectangular portrait of the late Mr. Winner. Heero would assume later that it was far easier than having a portrait painted of each of the 30 Winner children, but still made them feel important. At the moment though, what intrigued him most was his own reflection. It wasn't a full-length mirror; it only showed his neck and above. But he could imagine the rest of what Relena was probably seeing. 

He'd grown three inches over the last few years of his adolescence, at 5'6" he wasn't overly tall, but tall enough for one of his Asian heritage. Hardened by a lifetime of training, his muscles were more apparent, but not disgustingly so. His shoulders were broader, his legs longer and his hair was still messier than that of Harry Potter. He looked better than he did the other day, dressed in a clean white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and jeans (although his recently ironed tank and spandex were in his bag). But he still looked, well, like Heero, the wondering soldier living from day to day. There was nothing overtly special about him, in his eyes. So what if he'd been valedictorian in his graduating class? So what if his professors all thought he had a bright future ahead of him? Heero Yuy was Heero Yuy; that was that. _I'm still nobody, no matter what my GPA says,_ he thought. _Even if I made a million dollars, I still wouldn't be worthy of her._

That was what Heero was thinking. Relena was looking at him too, but far less critically. She'd rarely thought about him recently, or rather, she just didn't give herself time to. At first, when he left, she'd buried herself in her work, content to let him be for a time. He needed his space. But then things started to slow down and she started to grow up. It was no longer Relena the politician or Relena the peacemaker, but Relena the woman that caught men's eyes, and made them stare at her when she passed. It was frightening, but flattering, and she started paying them more attention too. Heero had been her first crush, yes, and at that time, she thought she'd loved him. But where absence usually makes the heart grow founder, "out of sight, out of mind" worked more for them. And all the other young men pushed him further and further into the back of her mind; and her once beloved teddy bear was pushed further and further into the back of her closet. And yet… 

When Quatre called, she jumped at the chance to see her friends, whom she'd kept in contact with since the war. Of course that meant leaving her boyfriend behind for a week, since he had to work. Still, it was all for the best. They liked Jon well enough; he just didn't quite mesh with the group. Her friends were different from the people he was accustomed to. Of course, he was a bit miffed that she was going somewhere with out him, but he agreed, reminding her, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" (She didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise.). So that was how she ended up, not knowing what on earth possessed her, digging "Heero-chan" out of her closet and putting him in her suitcase. And now here he was. 

"Heero," she repeated, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. 

He nearly jumped. It was the closest Heero Yuy ever was to being surprised. Only she could have that effect on him. "Yes?"

Relena giggled, relieving some of the tension that had built up within her. "It's… nice to see you again. How-how are you?" It was a common greeting, but it sounded dumb to her ears. To him, it was… well, something anyway. She cared about his welfare; that was good, wasn't it? It wasn't an "I missed you" or throwing her arms around his neck is crying, but again, he didn't expect that. He never expected much at all, from her, nor from anyone for that matter. It was one of his characteristics that he couldn't seem to shake, even in peacetime. 

"I'm- well, I suppose. Physically, anyway," he added. He didn't know why he said that, but it was the truth. 

"Only physically?" she said with a little laugh, hoping he was joking. "That's too bad," she corrected herself, in case she had hurt his feelings. She sounded sincere and more than a bit concerned. But then, she was a politician after all, so she could have been pretending. 

Heero shrugged and they lapsed back into silence. This time, Quatre came to their rescue. 

"Why don't I show you to your room?" he suggested, picking up Heero's bag. "I'll be right back," he told his guests. They looked at him understandingly, though the ones Heero knew fairly well seemed worried. 

Heero followed Sandrock's pilot up the stairs, glancing behind him periodically. He was afraid perhaps that if he turned his back, she would disappear. Strange how she used to do the same five years before. 

Quatre led him to a room on the third floor in the middle of what seemed an endless hallway. It was excessively large, and he felt a bit like a very tiny needle in a really big haystack. He set Heero's duffle bag at the foot of a large dresser. 

"You can put your stuff in there," he offered. Heero shook his head; he was used to living out of a suitcase. He sat on the bed and bounced slightly, testing the mattress for firmness. 

"Too soft," he muttered, not used to the luxury of a real bed, instead of a cheap futon on the floor, which may as well have been stuffed with lead. 

"Hm," Quatre frowned, not paying any attention to what he was doing. "I'll leave you to get settled then. Someone will call you for dinner." He started out, but paused at the door. "Oh, do yourself a favor," he said, his blue eyes troubled, "and try to be a little… friendlier to Relena while you guys are here."  
"Huh?" Heero looked at him bewildered. "Why?" Inside he was saying, _Was I not being friendly? You should know that's not how I am. I haven't changed that much_.

Quatre sighed. "Just try, okay?"  
"What for?" He wanted to know, folding his arms across his chest, waiting for a response. 

"I… can't tell you. Maybe some other time, but I really should get back downstairs. Before Duo starts telling dirty jokes or something, you know?" He smiled weakly. "You can go anywhere you like. If you need anything…" His voice trailed off as he shut the door, leaving Heero to ponder on what he meant. 


	3. They were so engrossed in each other tha

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. I am making no profit off of this fic.

The Great Yuy- Chapter 3

"They were so engrossed in each other that she didn't see me until I was five feet away."

- Jordan Baker, about her first meeting with Jay Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

4 June AC 202

1700 hours

Counter: 02:30

Heero didn't show his face for the rest of the afternoon, and Relena was surprised at how relieved she felt that she wouldn't have to deal with him until dinner. Now, after she had changed from her travel clothes into a pale blue sundress and taken a brief nap, she had her an hour more of freedom, as the entire Winner family and its guests ate promptly at six o'clock. According to Quatre, the aforementioned former soldier was locked away in his room, so she deemed it safe to explore the extensive and exquisite (for all that they were planted in artificial soil) gardens. Needless to say, Relena was surprised when, upon going to examine the rose bushes, she found Heero Yuy himself, comfortably casual (in his mind, perhaps too casual) in jeans and his tank top, perched on a white marble bench in the midst of the flowers, his nose buried in a book. He acknowledged her with a wave of his hand, before he did a double take and tossed his book into the bushes in surprise.

"Relena! Er, hi." Heero suddenly felt uncomfortably warm, despite the fact that the colony temperature was regulated for comfort more than season.

"Can I sit here?" The question brought to mind another similar incident, and she giggled nervously.

"Go ahead, it isn't my colony either," he replied without emotion, though he did understand the joke. He ducked behind the bushes for a moment, retrieving his book, as she sat while briefly admiring a certain part of his backside-, which Relena immediately chided herself for looking at.

_You're taken,_ she reminded herself, forgetting all about women's rights for a moment with that rather un-politically correct thought. Still, it was all that could get through to her. But on the other hand, the phrase "No harm in looking" drifted into her mind. She shook it off quickly. "What are you reading?" she asked, willing herself to focus her vision on the book he was holding.

"Hmm? Oh, The Great Gatsby," he replied, using as few syllables as he possibly could.

"Really? That's my favorite book!" She exclaimed, anxiety making her sound a little too enthusiastic, even though it was the truth. "I've read it at least three times already, I think."  
"Three? This is my fifth," he boasted.

"Yeah, right," Relena said incredulously. "I'm surprised you've even read it once."

Heero eyed her curiously. "Hm? What makes you say that?"

The politician shrugged. "I don't know. It's sort of- well there are a few romantic elements, and you- I mean, guys aren't exactly into that. I mean, it's not exactly a "chick book" like people might consider Pride and Prejudice for instance, but…"   
Heero shook his head disapprovingly. "Why do people seem to make the misconception that men always balk at romances, unless they're gay? It's like saying shoujo manga isn't read by older men or shonen is only action. It's just not true. What's the reason for that? This book was written by a man, its main character is a man, what shouldn't a guy like? Even I, with my reputation for being a heartless bastard, enjoy it. I'm not saying you're to blame, but why?"

Relena studied him for a moment, surprised by this sudden display of feeling, if not downright emotion. "I don't know. I'm sorry if I misjudged you." She frowned deeply. "I didn't mean it that way, I was just teasing."

Heero nodded. "I know," he said apologetically. He felt bad for jumping on her like that, but the thought that not just most people, but she thought he was a "heartless bastard" as he had said. Man or not, he wasn't a robot, and he had to make that clear to Relena, at least, if no one else. "I'm not blaming you," he continued. "It's just…" he stopped, suddenly afraid to vocalize his thoughts.

"What?" she encouraged. She put her hand on his in an intimate gesture that disturbed him as much as it elated him. "You can tell me. I won't say anything."  
"All right." He turned away from her, pulling his hand away so that he retained some mental control over himself. Now was the perfect time to tell her how he felt. His sensibility was screaming at him not to mess up this opportunity. Taking a deep breath, he began," It's just… the reason I like the book so much is, well, I can relate to Gatsby. I know how it feels, wanting something, someone, so out of your reach." He turned to her suddenly, grasping her hand. "Relena, I-"  
For a moment, the girl leaned towards him with what could only be described as eagerness. Then, a second later, she jumped away, the moment gone.

"Now, that was deep," she giggled nervously. _Oh great, I probably sound like such an air head now_, she thought. "How can you read?" she continued, trying to sound as light as possible, "with your hair in your eyes like that?" Something silly was all she could come up with at that moment to give her an excuse, any excuse, to leave. She grinned mischievously. "Be right back."  
"Um, sure." He watched her go, unable to see the look of panic that had replaced the smile on her face.

Relena dove into her suitcase, scattering once neatly packed articles of clothing all over the floor. "Where is it, damn it?" She opened her purse and shook it upside down until the object in question fell to the floor: a handy little device, which since a completely different era had been referred to as a cell phone. Of course, it had no picture, like a normal vidphone did, but at least she had free long distance on Saturdays and Sundays. Not that she couldn't afford it, of course, even at this long distance. But on this, no one else could eavesdrop.

She punched in the number and it crackled more than rang. Finally, she heard a click, and a muffled, but familiar voice saying, "Hello, Drake residence. Who's calling please?"

Relena grinned; feeling suddenly relieved when she heard the voice of her ever-faithful butler. "Pagan, is that you?"

"Miss Relena! I, er, I can explain, that is to say, um…" She giggled. Since she first knew Jonathan, back in the days of crayons and pigtails, Pagan had been quite taken with the Drakes' housekeeper. It only took years and the slight interference of their charges to finally get them together. It didn't surprise her that he was there, and it more than pleased her. "It's okay, Pagan. I'll be a good girl and I won't tease you about it. At least, not until I see you in person anyway. Is Jon there?"

"Master Jonathan is in his study," was his reply. "I'll fetch him." There was an abrupt clunk, and Relena fancied that he'd be bright red when Jon saw him.

"Caught him red-handed, huh?" Relena started when she heard the voice of her lover on the other line.

"Oh, uh, yeah," she replied, feeling somewhat shaky, and awfully guilty for something she hadn't done (at least, not yet anyway). Fortunately, he couldn't sense her discomfort. Relena wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Didn't think the old guy had it in him," he continued, and she could hear the smirk in his voice, though she couldn't see it. "How ya doing, sweetheart?" About a month into their relationship (Yes, it took that long.) Jon had finally started calling her by her name without any suffixes attached, and recently had made another switch to more affectionate nicknames, including sweetheart, honey, and (Relena had a feeling Duo was to blame) babe. Though annoying to most people around them, Relena thought it was sweet. But she refused to do it herself- Jon was as far as she would go.

"Good," she said lightly, twirling her hair around her finger, a bad habit she'd developed over the years. Though she'd expected his voice to ground her somewhat, it only seemed to make the ache in her stomach grow worse. But again, he didn't seem to notice.

"That's nice. Anyway, I'm glad you called. I just sent a surprise for you, you should get it tomorrow."

"Really, what?" she asked, trying to sound enthusiastic as she rummaged through her accessories, searching for something to bring back, anything that would work.

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise," he said, sounding fully confident that she would like it, perhaps a bit too confident. Not that Relena noticed this, of course. Even if she weren't preoccupied, she wouldn't have. "Look for the best in people" was one of her favorite sayings, and it explained something about her list of old boyfriends/crushes. This was also why she let him drone on about something, a new car or boat, or whatever it was, for the next fifteen minutes.

_Heero's probably wondering what happened to me_, she thought to herself. Once that name came up, her blood pressure automatically rose and she was hard pressed to push it out of her mind, and she wasn't really listening anyway to begin with. Before she knew it, she had said "Goodbye" and turned off the phone. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she found the very object she needed, and feeling only slightly more composed, she returned to the gardens, muttering "I have a boyfriend" under her breath. She was determined to resist Heero Yuy's charms (if he had any) if it was the last thing she did.

"I'm back," she sung, smiling wickedly.

Heero looked up from his book. "I see. Well?"  
"Close your eyes," she ordered mysteriously, holding both of her hands behind her back, though he had no idea what she could be hiding.

He eyed her curiously for a moment, arching one thick brown eyebrow. Then his shoulders kicked in and he obeyed the command, all the while wondering what on earth had possessed her. Or him, for that matter, for listening to her. _Eh, who am I kidding? I'd jump off a bridge if she asked me to**,**_ he thought, sighing inwardly.

Heero nearly jumped, startled, as she began to gently run her fingers through his bangs. "Relena," he started to say, but a small moan escaped him instead. Enjoying the feeling, he relaxed more, forgetting to be wary of what she was planning until he felt something clamp against his scalp.

"What the-?" He reached up and pulled the foreign object out of his hair to inspect it. It was a large black clip, which he'd seen in a lot of women's hair on TV and in magazines. Fine for them, he supposed, but he imagined that it'd be mortifying for a guy to be seen wearing it in public. Judging by his companion's giggles, which bubbled up from with in her like water in a fountain, despite her best efforts to damn them, Heero figured he'd been right. Yet, instead of feeling embarrassed, as he should have been, he chuckled softly as he got to his feet, moving as slowly as the old lady he'd seen crossing the street that morning. Relena studied him with apprehension.

He put down his things, stood, took a step and she fled, prepared for whatever punishment he might choose to inflict upon her. They wound through various bushes, trampling on the newly cut artificial grass and unleashing the scent of fresh herbs under their feet. They were now quite far away from the main house and Relena's legs (not to mention her shoes) felt like they would buckle and give way at any moment, taking away the advantage her head start had given her. She darted behind a tree, Heero still quite a bit away, and pressed her back to it, the bark scratching her skin through her thin (and expensive) summer clothes. She gasped for breath and peaked around the trunk to see if her pursuer was nearby. But no one was there. Fearing that he was also hiding, she ducked back, only to be met by laughing blue eyes and a triumphant smile. Taken aback, she froze in her tracks.

"Gotcha." He dove for her and she regained her senses just in time to dodge, but she was no more than a match for his superhuman speed; he had just been playing with her until then. Relena braced her chest, her chest swelling with fear and an odd hope as she wondered what on earth he was going to do now that he had her.

Heero watched Relena calmly as she dashed behind a tree, letting her think she was safe. He slowed down, half-laughing, half-panting. He felt strangely exhilarated from the exercise, which was really quite slow compared to the speed of his daily five-mile run. Nonchalantly, he strolled down the path, as if he were merely admiring the flowers. He stopped at her tree, listening to her gasping for breath. Then she moved, probably to see where he was. Instead of following her there, he went the other direction. When she returned, he met her smirking. No, not smirking, SMILING. Yes, it was a smile. If it were someone else, it might have been a laugh, but a smile on Heero Yuy?

Relena stared, as if she were seeing him for the first time. She felt as if she was. Heero was an entirely different person when he smiled. It was enough to make any girl melt- or forget what she was supposed to be doing. Not that it was a distraction technique, mind you, he wasn't thinking that rationally at the moment. How could he; he was actually having fun for one of the first times of his life. It was an odd sort of game, and it could have been dangerous for her if he were any other sort of man. Grabbing her by the wrists, he pinned her to the tree, which could be considered a very compromising position. He was so close, Relena felt suffocated; but she couldn't push him away, even if she wanted to. Though pretty strong for her size, not even the Hulk could push off Heero Yuy.

"So, you think I'm funny, do you?" he whispered. His breath tickled her neck, and she felt her face grow hot.

"Yes, she answered, knowing she might have just signed her death warrant (figuratively speaking, of course- she hoped). He dropped her arms, putting his hands on the bark on both sides of her head instead, trapping her even more.

"Is that so? Well, I don't like that." There was a note of teasing in his voice, making her feel more at ease and more daring.

"So what are you going to do about it?" she challenged. Her voice sounded like it belonged to someone else to her ears, suddenly deeper and husky. If she'd witnessed the scene in a movie, she'd say the aim of seduction was clear. But Relena wouldn't do that, would she?

"Hmm, good question," he murmured. Relena's honey blonde locks had fallen in to her eyes, sticking to her skin. Heero moved one hand to move them, brushing against her forehead as he did so. His fingertips were cold, a relief from the heat, which suddenly had become unbearable to her.

"Your hands feel so cool," she murmured. She remembered, one springtime long ago, that a different but slightly similar gesture had brought about the same remark, if only in her head. "You always feel so cool."

Heero mumbled something, she wasn't even sure if it was real words, but as she tilted her head to hear him better, her eyes drifted to an unwelcome sight. For who should she see but Quatre, all the Gundam pilots and their female companions, including her relatives, and a few random Winner sisters and Maguanacs standing about five feet away. They had come to fetch their guests for dinner, and had been there for quite a long time now, watching them with confused expressions. Relena gasped softly, making Heero turn as well.

"Ahem." Quatre was the first to speak. He looked perplexed, and, though they couldn't tell, a bit amused, which he felt wasn't appropriate to show at that time. "Here you are."

"Um, we were just-" Relena attempted to explain, but her oratory skills failed her at the moment, as did most of her brain. Heero didn't even try. There was a stormy expression on his face as he stomped out of the garden. Relena had the odd feeling that she'd almost grasped something, but lost it at once. Dazed and trying to figure out what that thing was, she took the arm Quatre offered her and they went in to dine.


	4. There are only the pursued, the pursuin

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. I am making no profit off of this fic.

The Great Yuy- Chapter 4

"There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired."

-Random phrase that entered Nick's head after Gatsby's request, F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

4 June AC 202

1800 hours

Counter: 3:30

The dining room seemed empty, though it was filled with more people than was probably the required safety limit. No one said a word, their perplexed gazes shifting from the soldier to the socialite. Relena's cheeks burned, though she was all but oblivious to their stares, too absorbed was she by her own thoughts.

_What just happened?_ She asked herself repeatedly. _What did I do wrong?_ Heero was seated across the table, twisting his napkin into all different shapes- the only indication of any possible anxiety. Otherwise, he was his customary, unreadable self- in other words, normal. It was as if before had never happened, or if it did happen, it was because he had been abducted by aliens. But then, Relena had a wild imagination. Still, it did seem to be an impostor- after all, had "playful" ever been used to describe Heero Yuy before? No, never. But that was what it was. He'd smiled; she was a witness to it herself, though she could hardly believe it.

_He was beautiful_, she thought silently before she pushed that treacherous idea away, finally remembering that she did in fact have a boyfriend. _You should have stopped it, Relena,_ her conscience nagged her. _You have a boyfriend, it isn't right to act like that with another man_.

_Stopped what? Act like what? We didn't even do anything, really_, she retorted, quite aware that having a conversation with yourself was the first symptom of insanity. _Whatever it was made Heero happy for a little bit, so what's the harm?_

Relena sighed inwardly. She wished he could be happy now. If there hadn't been so many witnesses, she would have believed that she invented the entire incident, another product of her overly active imagination.

While Relena was having a debate with the little angel that represented her conscience, Heero was putting all the blame of "The Incident" (not just an incident to him, but "The Incident") on himself. _Stupid, stupid, stupid _was his mantra as he pushed around his dinner with his fork hand and strangled his napkin with the other. Though he was only slightly sweaty from the afternoon exercise, he felt dirty compared to the rest of them. He had no time to change for dinner and was still in the faded ripped jeans and tank top he had put on after he got there. Even Catherine and Trowa, and Duo and Hilde looked more presentable than he did, although their economic situations were only a little bit better than his was. Though they were dressed in summery attire, they still managed to look classy. Trowa, in fact, fit right in with the higher-class guests, in a pale green silk shirt and khaki pants that were apparently a gift from Quatre. Heero felt like the spotted saucer amid sparkling china. Of course, no one looked better than Relena did, in a simple blue sundress of a smooth, silky material that his lack of expertise prevented him from identifying. He couldn't imagine how Relena would want to be seen with him on a normal occasion, let alone one that could possibly be considered inappropriate.

He replayed that afternoon's "incident" over and over in his head. In that scene, Relena was dressed as she was, the sweet heroine seduced (he couldn't even say in love with, in that context it seemed wrong), by the uncouth "peasant," that is, himself, who wasn't even presentable enough to be on a romance novel cover. A ripped shirt baring his chest would have even been more appropriate than his clothes- he looked more the part of a mugger or a rapist, at least to his eyes. Of course, it wasn't THAT bad, and if he thought all Relena cared about was his clothes, and perhaps a lack of propriety (which she could also be blamed for), then he really needed to get his priorities straight. Clearly, that was a lesson to be learned for another time though. In any case, he didn't like to be singled out that way. But the frown on Relena's face that was the result of her inner argument hit him harder, as she was staring directly at him when she did it. It was that expression that finally got to him, nothing else. He threw down his napkin and left the table without asking to be excused (another minor faux paux, which he didn't care so much about at that moment).

Tempted though she was to follow him, Relena remained in her place. She wasn't that unaware of her surroundings to know he had been looking at her before he left. And that left her wondering what she could have possibly done wrong, this time.

4 June AC 202

23:30 Hours

Counter: 08:00

Heero rolled over onto his side, his mattress molding to accommodate his shape without a squeak. There were no lumps in it, like there were in his bed at home, but he still couldn't get comfortable. He beat his pillow to flatten it, but the down feathers fluffed back up again. Frustrated, he sat up; beads of sweat dripping down his face from the constant movement, the warm silk sheets and the hot artificial air that blew in from the window. Even in his night wear- a pair of boxer shorts, and no shirt- he was boiling. If he had wanted to of course, Heero probably could have turned on the air conditioning, which there was in every room of the Winner Mansion. But, as he had no such luxury in his own house, he did without, fearing perhaps, that he would get spoiled.

Still, it was hardly fair to blame his environment for keeping him awake. The image of that afternoon haunted him, one that both filled him with a great longing, and a great disgust. The former only made the latter even worse. He'd been so close, just inches away from touching her, from kissing her, from _nearly ruining her life_, he thought bitterly. He sighed, running his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. _Dr. J was right. I'm not good enough for her. I embarrassed her in front of everyone. She probably hates me now. They probably think we're having an affair or something. Humph. If the others hadn't shown up, who knows what I could have done to her?_

Heero's conscience ignored the possibility that she might have wanted him to, not to mention that she'd also forgotten that she had a boyfriend at home. And that really they hadn't done anything wrong, he just might have wanted to. But he was more focused at what Dr. J had said and how he looked among the others, his own image, that distorted view that blasted mirror had given him. Because of that, he could never be more than a lover for Relena. He wasn't good enough to be anything but a fun affair on the side. That was what bothered him the most that evening- what they had been doing didn't seem to factor love anywhere in the picture. How could it, she had the perfect boyfriend already, one who was her equal in almost every way. For a moment, he felt a pang of jealousy of that rich brat he had disliked so in high school. He had everything he wanted: money, status, sophistication… and Relena. Everything went back to Relena. The first things would have meant nothing if they couldn't get the last. Relena and Jonathan had them, and that was what made them the perfect pair, the model couple of high society. The only way Heero could ever fit into that picture was wearing a Preventer uniform in the background as her bodyguard. 

But that can change, can't it? Heero though suddenly, glancing at the weathered copy of his favorite book that lay open on the night table. It had spent quite a few hours abandoned in the garden before he had thought to retrieve it. And looking at it gave him a sudden inspiration. For if James Gatz could become Jay Gatsby, why couldn't he? Of course, he couldn't get a fortune over night; that was for certain. But he could pretend, as Gatsby had at first. The only difference would be that Heero wouldn't fail. His Daisy would be his, and Heero knew just who could help him achieve that. Flinging off the covers, he jumped out of bed, ready to set his plan into motion that very instant.

23:45 hours

Counter: 08:15

It took 15 minutes of wandering through corridors before Heero finally located the room of his host. And he had no scruples knocking on the door right way (He would have to learn manners too), never thinking that Quatre might be asleep, or otherwise occupied.

He heard grumbling and the sounds of someone fumbling in the dark, before his host opened the door, clad in a sky blue bathrobe, which was wrapped tightly around him, as if hiding something he didn't want anyone to see. His blonde hair was messy, though not a victim of the dreaded bed head, and his face was flushed quite red, from either exercise or embarrassment or anger or all at once. "What's the matter, Heero?"

"I need your help," the soldier replied shortly, barging in the room without further invitation. As he walked in, Trowa exited the adjoining bathroom, a towel around his waist and his hair dripping wet.

The two Gundam pilots blinked at each other as an expression of surprise, but said nothing. Heero wondered quietly to himself why the two comrades had to share a room in such a large house. But the curiosity was brief; right now, he had bigger problems. He turned back to the other boy, repeating, "I need your help."

"Yes, you said that before," Quatre said patiently. Heero had gotten lucky that his richest friend was also the kindest as well; nobody else would have put up with him like this. "What's the problem?"

Heero paused for a moment; wondering exactly how he'd planned on phrasing this. But his mouth seemed to have a mind of its own, and before he could approach the subject delicately, he blurted out: "I need your help to get Relena to fall in love with me."

At that moment, two mouths simultaneously fell open.

"What?" Quatre cried, as Trowa grabbed his towel quickly to prevent it from falling to the floor.

Heero shook his head, explaining hurriedly, "No, not exactly. See, look at me, I'm a mess. I'm poor; I have no place in society. And after what happened tonight, I wouldn't be surprised if she never wanted to be seen in public with me again. Who knows what we might have done if you hadn't shown up tonight? But I want to change. I want to be as cultured and refined as that idiot she's seeing is. I want to be someone she won't be afraid to have a public relationship with, someone she could be proud of. But I need your help to do it. Will you?"

His comrades gaped at him, amazed at the spill of words that had just poured out of his mouth. They weren't sure if he was drunk, or had gone insane, or what. Quatre was the first to recover from the shock; at least enough to process what he was saying and disagree with it.

"We could try. But it won't be easy and we need more time. Rome wasn't built in a day, Eliza Doolittle didn't become my fair lady overnight you know."  
"Take all the time you need. Then I can go to Earth and Relena and I can…"  
Quatre cut him off in this new tirade. "It hurts me to say this," he began, and he knew it to be true. In experiencing the emotions of others, he knew what to expect. It was difficult knowing others' feelings, but it was worse when it was those of his friends. And he had never seen Heero so passionate (not to mention vocal) about something. It would be torture to burst his bubble, but he couldn't let him go on without knowing.

"Actually," he began, choking the words out, "you only have a week, till next Sunday, exactly. That's a week from today, well, it'll be yesterday, in a couple of minutes. That's when Relena goes home. And once that happens…" His voice trailed off and he suddenly felt sick from the rising panic his friend was giving off like radio waves. Trowa reached out to strengthen him, but Heero go there first.  
"What? What is it? Tell me, damnit!" Heero demanded him, pulling him violently by the collar of his robe. But Quatre didn't have a chance to tell him delicately, as he hoped.

"Jon is going to propose to her," Trowa said flatly, more than a bit annoyed with Heero now. He grabbed his wrist, pulling him away from Quatre.

Heero's face fell. All the color drained out of it as his hand dropped limply to his side. "What? No- that can't be possible."  
"I'm sorry, Heero," Quatre patted his shoulder, apparently feeling no ill will toward the person who could have killed him with his bare hands. "It's true. I saw the ring. He's going to ask her to marry him, the night she gets home. Once I found out you were coming, I managed to convince him to put it off until then, but once she goes back to Earth- it's over." Quatre was taken aback by how much the man's body shook under his hand. Heero's head was bowed; any other person might have started to cry something that perhaps had never happened in the life of Heero Yuy.

But it only lasted a brief moment; soon he calmed himself. Those reactions were for the weak. He would not be among them; he would not break down. Not when he was faced with the prospect of losing the most important person in his life.

"I'm not giving up," he said firmly. Trowa and Quatre looked at him in astonishment. "I will do this, with or without your help. I don't have a choice. I will get Relena back."  
"Even if we do this, I don't think-" Quatre started to say, but Trowa shook his head. And he had to acknowledge that the quiet man knew better than he did. He had, after all, followed Heero throughout Europe, just to make up for a mistake that someone had tricked him into making. There would be no talking him out of this, even if it were destined for failure. No matter how stupid the method, Heero would see it through until the end.

"Besides," he continued, a smirk creeping upon his face, "I've done harder things then this, and you know it. I can handle this." But Heero Yuy, the great soldier who single-handedly saved a planet, could not handle this. He could not handle this at all.


	5. He was left with his singularly appropri

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. The Great Gatsby belongs to F.Scott Fitzgerald.

The Great Yuy- Chapter 5

"He was left with his singularly appropriate education; the vague contour of Jay Gatsby had filled out to the substantiality of a man."

-Nick, on the creation of Jay Gatsby from James Gatz, The Great Gatsby, F.Scott Fitzgerald

5 June AC 202

0500 hours

Counter: 13:30

Heero woke on Sunday morning to darkness outside and a performance inside. He pulled himself up to a sitting position and saw Quatre closing the window so that he could put on the air conditioning, singing "The Rain in Spain" quite loudly to himself.

"What the f-?" Heero started to say, but Quatre's startled gasp silenced him.

"Heero!" he scolded, sounding appalled. "A gentleman doesn't curse like that."

Heero scratched his head thoughtfully, trying to get his sleep-deprived brain to comprehend what exactly the man was talking about. Then he remembered what he had brought upon himself and sighed with resignation. "I'm sorry," he said grumpily. "I won't do it again."

"See that you won't." Quatre scrutinized him with pursed lips, as if there was something he saw that he highly disapproved of. Most likely there really was.

"What?" Heero asked, the examination making him feel quite uncomfortable, and a little nervous too. Suddenly entrusting this "mission" to Quatre didn't seem like such a good idea anymore. "What?" he repeated impatiently when his friend didn't answer the first time.

"Hmm," Quatre murmured, not really answering, though what he did say did pretty much fit the question. "I was right. We definitely need to start with the hair first."

Heero gulped. His hand went automatically to his disordered locks. They were particularly in disarray from a case of the dreaded "bedhead." But he still didn't think it was really bad. "Hair?"

His new mentor nodded solemnly. "Yes, and after that we can move onto clothes. It's a good thing I have connections," he commented. He beckoned for Heero to get up. When the soldier didn't move, he said, "Get dressed. We have a lot of work to do and not enough time. Come on, move it."

Feeling strangely like he was at boot camp (only not as fun), Heero reluctantly got out of bed, mumbling, "I have a feeling I'm going to regret this."

0530 hours

Counter: 14:00

"Abdul's driving." Trowa burst into the room without any salutation. "And you know how grouchy he gets this early in the morning. We really ought to- hey, where's Quatre?" he asked Heero suddenly. The soldier pointed from his seat on the bed. A gray-clad bottom poked out of Heero's closet where Quatre was putting away his things and trying to find something decent for his friend to wear.

"Nothing," he declared, standing up. Even disappointed, he still had an awfully cheery visage for that time of day. "Not a single nice outfit. How did ever you survive private school? Did you burn everything after you transferred?" before Heero could reply, he continued, "Oh well, you'll just have to borrow Trowa's clothes then."

"What!" The normally taciturn clown was all too vocal in expressing his objection, a string of expletives that seemed too much for Quatre's well-bred ears coming out of his mouth. Undaunted, the gentleman clamped his partner's mouth shut, strangely not coming down as hard on him about the cursing as he did Heero half an hour before.

"Now, now. We're here to help Heero, with every resource we have available, even if it means sacrificing a few of our own things."

Trowa raised an eyebrow at him. "Why do I have to sacrifice my clothes? Why can't he wear yours?" he questioned, as soon as he was free to speak again.

"Because you're the same size," Quatre reasoned, "and Heero looks bad in pink. Cheer up," he added, when the grumpy expression on Trowa's face didn't disappear from his joke. "This will be fun; except for the fact that there's only two of us, it'll be like Queer Eye for the Straight Guy."

Heero raised his eyebrow at this. Apparently, whatever doubts Quatre had had the night before about completing this project in a week had completely disappeared. This morning, he was bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and ready for the challenge, while they were still exhausted. Already, Heero and Trowa both predicted that they'd be even more tired before the day was out. Unfortunately, they were right.

0600 hours

Counter: 14:30

"Now Heero," Quatre began in a lecturing tone as they exited the limo. "Paolo came in today especially because I told him it was an emergency. Normally, he doesn't work on Sundays, and usually not at the last minute. But he's a nice guy, and said he would do it as a favor just for me. So behave, all right? And that goes for you too, Trowa."

The clown snorted. "I'll behave if he does."

Heero looked at his friend curiously. Trowa's mood had progressively worsened, especially since Quatre announced their first destination. Why, he wasn't sure, but looking at this mansion-sized beauty parlor (Not a barber shop, not a hair salon, but a beauty parlor), his mood really wasn't improving either. The Perfect Soldier had never seen a hair-cutting place with a perfectly landscaped front lawn before. And the building, oh, the actual building, which was actually this person's private home as well as his workplace. It was painted snow white, with strings of Christmas lights lining the roof for decoration, and a curtain of ivy perfectly draped over the sides of the house, as if it had been put there on purpose, arranged in just the right form and just the right length. A cement path cut through the garden, lined with hedges, connected the street with the outdoor porch. It looked like somewhere Martha Stewart would've felt very at home in.

Heero wasn't sure about Trowa, but he certainly felt uncomfortable. He was considering running for the hills, when the front door swung open.

"Monsieur Quatre! What a pleasure to see you!" A muscular man with blonde highlights and a distinctively French accent ran out to greet them. He kissed Quatre on both cheeks in the European style.

Heero blinked at them and then glanced back at Trowa, who was glaring furiously, turning as green as his eyes. It finally clicked in his brain what was troubling his friend. "Oh," he said quietly, just so he could hear. "I didn't know."

"What do we have here?" Paolo tore himself away from Quatre and advanced on Heero. "My, my, my. No wonder why you said it was an emergency," he exclaimed, examining Heero's coiffure with disgust. Now it was his turn to start glaring.

"Don't touch me," he growled, but the man bravely ignored him.

"Come in, come in," he led them down the path, up the porch steps and inside, nearly dragging Heero by the hair. Perhaps it was the pictures that lined the wall of different celebrities and their distinctive hairstyles. Perhaps it was the strong order of hairspray that filled the room. Whatever it was, Heero had a feeling for one of the first times out of many that he had made a big mistake asking for Quatre's help.

0700 hours

Counter 15:30

Heero couldn't keep his hands off his hair from the moment he stepped out of the salon. He clung to it as if he had just lost his best friend. Really, it wasn't that bad. Paolo had in fact done an excellent job. He washed, blow-dried, trimmed and combed until it actually looked like hair, instead of a short mane. But to Heero, it was as if a piece of his soul had been removed. He didn't realize that that was just the beginning of it all.

"We're here!" Quatre sung out. After five cups of specially blended, rejuvenating tea in the waiting room, he was filled with even more energy than before. Trowa, on the other hand, had consumed the same amount of coffee and was still as grouchy as ever. Of course, that could've been because Paolo had been hitting on Quatre throughout, without missing a single snip. It made Heavyarms' pilot want to snip something on him. And it certainly wasn't his hair. But of course, that would've been rude.

Heero stared up at the large building in front of him. It was about the size of a landing field, spanned three floors, had two levels of parking lot, and was that a Ferris wheel he saw behind it? It wasn't like anything he had ever seen, nor wanted to see.

"A mall?" he asked, his heart sinking. As if the haircut hadn't been enough.

"Umhm," Quatre replied, seemingly unaware of the fear in his new protégée's eyes. "The best on the colony. You can't exactly wear Trowa's clothes forever."  
"I'll say," the cranky clown put in. If he were in costume, he'd probably have his sad face on. "He keeps stepping on my pants."

The Gundam pilot glanced at his feet. He wasn't stepping on them, per se, but they were a bit long. "Well, I guess," he began doubtfully. "But I can't afford a lot right now."  
Quatre looked at him briefly as if he thought him simple. "Well, of course it's on me. Don't worry about it. If I'm going to be your teacher in this, it's up to me to supply you with what you need. I'll take care of it."

"Well…" Heero paused thoughtfully. Quatre's nature was a generous one, and he wouldn't expect anything in return. But Heero had his pride too. "All right. But I will pay you back when I get the money. No buts," he added, before he could protest.

Quatre grinned; Heero knew him too well. "That's fair. Now come on, we've got over a hundred stores to go to before it officially opens. I called upon my special Winner privileges just for you." Cheerily, he skipped ahead of them, leaving Heero staring with his mouth wide open.

"Did he say 'hundreds'?" The soldier asked incredulously.

Trowa nodded. "Yep. And when Quatre says over a hundred, he means over a hundred. Are you sorry yet?"  
Heero's face fell. He thought he'd been exaggerating. Oh dear.

0800 hours  
Counter: 16:30

While Quatre and Trowa were bringing Heero to his torture session, er, hair appointment, the others were still snug in their beds. By the time breakfast was served at 8 o'clock, and all had trickled down to the dining room, they had still not returned. Needless to say, this was a cause of some worry to them all, especially Quatre's sisters.

"I can't believe he left without telling anyone," the eldest, Iria, said worriedly. "I hope he gets back soon." Though her little brother was a grown man, and she knew better then anyone how capable he was of taking care of himself, she still couldn't help being a little over-protective.

"I'm sure he will," Catherine reassured her. "Besides, Trowa is with him, so I'm sure he's fine." The two girls exchanged an understanding smile. When their siblings had first introduced them, they hit it off right away. Quatre was especially glad to see this, as Catherine had become considerably warmer towards him when she realized how much he was adored by his elder sister, who repeatedly assured her of his good character.

"Yeah, they'll be okay." Hilde put in from her seat next to her husband, who was eagerly awaiting his meal. "But what about Heero and Relena? They're both missing too."

Slightly less than fifty jaws dropped simultaneously. No one had quite expected to hear that.


	6. It makes me sad because I've never seen ...

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing does not belong to me, nor does The Great Gatsby. Though I do have the DVDs, and the book.

The Great Yuy

Chapter Six

"It makes me sad because I've never seen such- such beautiful shirts before."

-Daisy, after her reunion with Gatsby, F.Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

5 June AC 202

0805 hours

Counter: 16:35

"They're what?" Twenty people exclaimed at once in response to Hilde's statement.

"Missing," the pregnant woman repeated, pleased by the reaction she was getting. "Do you see them anywhere?"

"Huh? Who's missing?" Relena came wandering into the dining room, stifling a yawn. Though she was perfectly made up and dressed, there were deep purple circles under her eyes. "I'm right here. But I don't know about Heero," she added, as they stared at here suspiciously. "I haven't seen him since yesterday. Really."

Hilde lumbered over to put her arm around her friend. Being in the room next door, she had spent most of the night listening to her friend sobbing into her pillow. And if she guessed correctly, the object of Relena's thoughts then were what was making her so defensive now. "We believe you," she said softly. "He probably just went somewhere with the other guys. Trowa and Quatre are gone too. Come, sit with us."

She led her to the chair she was sitting in before, and sat on the other side of her. Relena's brother, sister-in-law and niece smiled their "Good morning." The baby stretched out her arms to her aunt and Relena picked her up, kissing her on the forehead before handing her back to her mother and taking her seat. Unlike her, the rest of the family appeared to have slept quite well.  
"Morning, jousan," Duo greeted her with a loud rumble from his stomach. "Now that you're here, maybe we'll actually get some grub. We need a dinner bell. Or a breakfast bell, whatever. Something to get the servants moving a little, like"

DING DONG. The doorbell echoed throughout the room as if it had been rung by the Hunchback of Notre Dame himself. "Like that," he finished, thoroughly impressed by the noise, and planning to ask at the first opportunity how to get one for his own house.

"I wonder who that could be this early in the morning?" wondered another of Quatre's sisters, whose name Relena couldn't remember at the moment. They found out a moment later.

A harried maid ran into the room, straight to Iria. She was carrying a small parcel in her hand. "Miss Winner, we have a delivery for the Vice Foreign Minister. The delivery man said it was very valuable; he was followed by all these men, and they were wearing uniforms and carrying weapons." This particular maid was of a nervous sort in general, so needless to say this occurrence in what was known to the public as a pacifist household (despite many of their current guests), had disturbed her greatly. It didn't help when everyone crowded around her to see what it was.

"It could be dangerous," Zechs warned, ever the cautious older brother, as Relena took the package from her. "Someone could have sent a bomb."

Relena shook her head, remembering her phone conversation of the night before. "No, I was expecting this. It's from Jon. He said he sent me something."

"Oh." Her brother calmed considerably when he heard that. He was actually quite fond of Jon. He liked him better than Heero, anyway.

"Open it already!" Dorothy demanded with impatience. Her friends all nodded their agreement. They seemed far more enthusiastic than she felt, and she was the recipient of this probably wonderful gift from a wonderful man who loved her. So why wasn't she excited?  
Her hand shook as she slit through the packing tape with the knife Duo handed her. It was really meant to cut through the hard crust of the delicious homemade bread Quatre's cook made fresh every morning and nearly split her thumb open. Still, she managed to open the package without spilling any blood. Buried underneath a pile of Styrofoam pieces lay a black velvet covered box. Relena opened it, the look on her face showing her relief at its rectangular shape and large size: too large for what she feared it contained. The result was like opening a giant oyster; she found a string of perfect pearls inside, each one more beautiful then the next. It must have cost a few thousand dollars. Relena felt her stomach turn when she looked at it: The amount of money he spent on that could've fed an entire undeveloped country for at least a year. For a moment, she thought of selling it to do just that, but Jon would be tremendously offended, and her friends, who were all oohing and aahing over the gift, would think she was crazy. All but one that is, who wasn't quite as dazzled as the others were by their shine.

"He couldn't wait to give you that?" Duo snorted in disgust. "What does he have to show off for? We all know how rich he is, thank you very much, no need to rub it in our faces." The others stared at him in surprise. Duo wasn't normally the envious sort. He usually took everything with a grain of salt, and didn't mind that some of his friends were so much richer than himself. Then again, of course, he wasn't thinking of himself in this case.

Hilde squeezed his hand. "Now, Duo, don't upset Relena," she whispered in her husband's ear. "Heero wouldn't want you to do that."  
"Don't worry about it, Hilde," Relena put in, hearing the first part, but not the second. "He's right; Jon shouldn't have done that, and I'm going to tell him so the next time I see him." She put the necklace back in the box, not bothering to adjust it carefully so that no pearls would get stuck when she closed it.

"You're not even going to try it on?" Dorothy asked incredulously. Though she was considerably a better person than she used to be, she did have something of a greed problem that her friends had yet to cure her of, if her closet of designer dresses was any indication. Her outfit that day could've fed a small country in itself.  
The politician shook her pretty head. "No, it wouldn't be right if I did so. It's too extravagant." The thought of something that expensive against her skin all but repulsed her. She didn't need it, nor did she really want it. If this was his way of showing he loved her, Jon really needed to get a new one.

"What's too extravagant?" Quatre, Trowa, and Heero walked in, all three laden down with shopping bags. Quatre was the one who had spoken, though he was immediately answered by the sight of the open box on the table, the pearls shining in all their polished glory. Heero spotted them too, before Relena could say, "Oh, nothing," and try to hide the necklace in her lap. A shadow passed over his face, and for a moment, he looked so hurt that Relena's eyes welled up with tears.

"What's that?" Hilde asked, pointing at the bags. Trowa handed his over for them to inspect, glad to be rid of the heavy burden. She opened one and pulled out shirt after shirt of all different colors and textures, all of the finest material and name brands. "Wow, someone went a little crazy. Speaking of extravagant," she kidded, passing them to Duo to see. Of course, as she was on the other side of Relena, she had to give it to her first. Relena looked at the object in her hand and back up at Heero. He still had that sad, almost distraught, expression and Relena couldn't hold it in any longer, sadder for him then he was for himself. The tears started to fall, one by one, right onto Heero's brand new silk shirt.

"Relena!" Hilde leaped up in alarm (slowly fortunately, for her unborn child's sake). "What's the matter?" She put her arm around her best friend and glared at Heero accusingly, for doing just what she warned Duo not to.

Relena sniffled, searching for an excuse for her behavior; the second time she had to do so in two days. "I'm crying because… because I've never seen such… such beautiful shirts before." She cracked a smile in spite of her sadness. The line was straight out of The Great Gatsby, though of course her tears weren't ones of happiness like Daisy's were. Only Heero understood the reference, though, and he looked at her curiously.

"Oh, um, thanks. I guess I have good taste," he replied, awkwardly, not quite eased up enough to come up with something witty himself. Quatre shot him a dirty look. "Or, well, Quatre does anyway," he corrected himself.

The conversation was starting to seem absurd, but not only to his ears. He didn't realize that everyone was looking at them as if they'd had two heads. Or as if he did, anyway. "I'd better go change." He took the shirt that she was holding and headed upstairs, leaving Quatre and Trowa exchanging a look behind his back.

"He doesn't really expect us to carry all of these bags up by ourselves, does he?" Trowa asked, raising his one visible eyebrow.

Quatre shook his head. "Of course not. That's what Duo is here for."

"Oh, right." They piled the parcels in his lap. For once, Duo didn't have a comment, but instead followed Heero, to see just what was going on with his friend.

Heero wasn't changing when Duo got to his room. How could he, when he forgot his pants? Instead, he was lying face down on his bed, not caring about messing up his new hairdo, too emotionally and physically exhausted from all he had experienced that morning. The mall trip was even worse than the haircut. As he expected, it did even have an amusement park, but of course, he wasn't allowed to explore it anyway. He'd been way too busy being dragged from boutique to boutique, trying on clothes that ranged in price from Relena's new necklace (which didn't help his stress level any, you can imagine) to his college tuition. Although, come to think of it, that might've been backwards; those pearls probably cost even more than his tuition. Whatever the case, he'd never spent so much money in one day, his or not. He felt sorry for Quatre's bank account. _It must have an awfully big dent in it_, he thought, forgetting the fact that his friend was a multimillionaire.

"It's going to take my whole life to pay him back," he sighed. He truly did intend to pay him back- he still had that much pride at least. But if Relena were with him, it would be okay. Not that he would let her help him pay off that debt, mind you; just that being with her would make it bearable. And as soon as that was done, he'd get her ten of those necklaces, only better ones. She was worth it.

Knock KNOCK. Knock KNOCK KNOCK.

"Come in," he shouted, irritated, but not quite enough to get up.

Duo poked his head past the door. "I knew if I annoyed you enough you'd let me in," he teased. He bounded into the room, onto the bed at Heero's feet. "Tough morning?" he asked casually, as if it were ordinary everyday conversation. But his cobalt eyes were full of concern, and so Heero didn't have the heart (or the strength) to throw him out. He only groaned.

"I guess so. If I went on that shopping spree, I'd be tired too. Whatever made Quatre decide to do that?"  
Heero's voice was muffled by his pillow. Duo knelt over him and pulled his head back away from it. "What?"  
"I said, I asked for it!" 02's pilot fell back, shocked by the statement. _Heero_ wanted to go shopping? Now that was not what he had expected. He didn't even think the man owned more than his tank top and spandex, and maybe a pair of jeans or two. Nor did he think he wanted them. To actually go shopping for designer clothes out of his own free will was insane.

"You're kidding!" he cried, from his seat on the floor. He climbed up the bed halfway so that just his head was visible.

Heero looked up for a brief moment to glare at him. "Do I look like I'm kidding?" he inquired, to which the answer was certainly no, he didn't.

Duo gaped at him, his eyes round and large in their sockets. "What on earth, the colonies, and every single planet that we have knowledge of possessed you to do such a thing?"  
The soldier moaned and again, his companion translated correctly. "It's about Relena, isn't it?" he guessed. Heero said nothing. "No, don't lie to me, I know it is. You know, I really don't think she cares about that stuff. You know, like clothes and all. Hehe, unless she's taking them off you, of course," he added.  
Heero summoned up enough strength to fling a down-stuffed pillow at him. "Kidding, kidding. But seriously, if you had heard her beforeHey, did you get a haircut?" he interrupted himself, suddenly noticing Heero's "new do" for the first time. "Snazzy. Anyway," he continued, "I really don't think you need to go to such lengths. She likes you, just the way you are."

Heero sat up at that point, sick of the one-way conversation. "Oh yeah? Then why is she still with that idiot?" he challenged, his face turning a bright shade of fiery red. Duo had never seen him so angry before, even when he himself had done something stupid. "She accepted that necklace willingly enough, even though I'm around now. And Relena needs a guy like him. Someone classy, who can spoil her like that, someone she won't be afraid of being with in public. Someone who won't embarrass her, like I did yesterday. Did you see how upset she looked after that?"  
Duo opened his mouth, and then abruptly closed it. It would do no good to tell him that Relena wasn't so much upset because she was embarrassed, but because he was ignoring her. Hilde wasn't the only person who'd heard her last night. But Heero probably wouldn't believe him anyway, so it was just a waste of breath. Heero would realize how stupid he was being in time. Better to at least be aware of what Heero was planning, so he could try to stop him if it went too far. "I can see how the clothes might help a little," he said, "but how are you supposed to get a fortune overnight?" he asked curiously, hoping that maybe that might burst his bubble a little. No such luck.

"How did Bill Gates manage to do it?" Heero said rhetorically, finally feeling strong enough to glide off the bed and onto his feet. "I got a bunch of offers from computer companies for jobs and stuff, plus Preventers, so I can take care of that quickly enough later. What's important right now is I look and act the part, and get Relena to fall in love with me before she goes home."  
"Um, okay," Duo shrugged, still not exactly sure that was going to work. Not that it wasn't done already; though she might not admit it, Relena was still crazy about him and would be even if he didn't know what fork to use, or whatever. _Hm, try telling him that_.

The braided youth sighed. "I guess. Whatever you do, I'm behind you all the way, buddy."  
Heero arched an eyebrow at this. "What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously, always wary that Duo might be up to something. If he tried to sabotage this…

"I mean," Duo clarified, "that I'll do whatever I can to help."

"Oh." Heero's lips curled into a slight smirk, glad to put his friend to use. At least he would have something to amuse him during all this. "Well, I appreciate that very much."  
"You're welcome," Duo started to say, but Heero wasn't finished yet.

"You can start," he continued, "by putting all those clothes in my closet and helping me pick out something to wear. Oh, and I want all of my old clothes burned."

"Uh…" Duo stared at him. Becoming Heero's butler wasn't exactly, necessarily, what he had had in mind.


End file.
